Mirror, Mirror
by Aeli Kindara
Summary: It's not easy being a mirror. Constantly confined to James Potter's pocket, pining away for your true love who will never spare you a second glance — Sirius Black.


**Disclaimer:** The world of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and is protected by copyrights. Don't sue.

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It's not easy, being a mirror.

Well, let me revise that statement. I'm sure it's easy enough for _some_ mirrors. All _they_ have to do is sit on the wall all day long. _And_ they're allowed to talk.

Me, I have to sit in James Potter's pocket — all day, every day. And believe me, that's boring. I mean, come on — all you have to reflect is plain, black fabric. And besides, when you finally do get pulled out and used, all you can do is transfer the words of another. Can't even speak your own mind.

I suppose I'm better off than some two-way mirrors, though. Because _I_ get to transfer the words of Sirius Black, almighty sexy god of —

Ahem.

It's kind of like that Greek myth thingie. Echo and Narcissus. Y'know? Echo is this beautiful nymph (me!) who's in love with a handsome youth, Narcissus. But because she's cursed by Hera (evil lady), she can only echo his words, not truly speak to him.

Ah, the life of a mirror is a sad one. Pining away for a love who will never even recognize your unwavering devotion —

_Stop it, Flo. You're a mirror, for Christ's sake. It's just not physically possible._

Well, not _all_ of us mirrors are asexual like you!

_Get it through your glass, Flo. You do _not_ have reproductive organs. You are, therefore, sexless and should not be in love with Sirius Black._

There — there are more important things than reproductive organs!

Pat?

Well, fine, be huffy.

That was Pat, my counterpart. Pat is asexual. I don't know how she/he/it manages it, you know. I mean, she/he/it gets to live in Sirius Black's pocket, for crying out loud!

_Yes, and it's positively disgusting there. He's always dropping the most _random_ things in there with me. I mean, what does he want dog biscuits for? And he gets me all grimy, and —_

"James Potter."

His voice! My true love's voice! And — yes, there it is — _his face_ —

"What is it, Sirius?"

— those deep, intense gray eyes —

"You'll never believe what I just did to Snape."

— dark, _dark_ hair, falling across his eyes —

"What?"

— that perfect, flawless face —

"I managed to make a rip all down the back of his robes and he didn't even _notice._ Honestly, that slimy git is so idiotic."

— roguish grin —

"Nice one. Nose practically touching his potion, I suppose?"

— and those _eyes,_ those _eyes —_

"Yep. Enough about Snape, though — get a load of this. If I angle the mirror right, I can see right up Carmen's —"

No! Please, no!

"Sirius, stop that. _You're_ the one with the crush on her, not me."

Say it isn't so!

"But of course. When _are_ you going to give up on Evans?"

Cheated, betrayed, maligned —

"I think she might be starting to like me."

— deceived, victimized —

"In your dreams. Listen, Prongs, I think I'm going to ask Carmen to Hogsmeade for next weekend."

Please! Shatter me now and spare me the anguish!

"Next weekend? You'll still be interested then?"

Stop! Please, God, make them stop! What did I ever do to deserve this torment?

"James, you prat. I don't move on _that_ quickly."

Oh, my fickle love!

"Liar."

How dare you insult him thus!

"Am not. Oops — Professor's heading this way — better go."

No, please! Do not leave me!

"Bye, Padfoot."

Farewell, my darling! Parting is such sweet sorrow!

"See you, Prongs."

And he's gone. Woe is me, for —

_Stop being such a drama queen, Flo. It's not like you haven't lived through dozens of his other flings._

Well, excuse me if I'm a little touchy at the moment.

_Besides, "woe is me" isn't even grammatically correct._

Sor_ry,_ Miss — Mr. — whatever — English teacher.

_If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times. Throwing tantrums over Sirius Black's weekly flings is not going get you anywhere in life._

Well, it's not like I'm going to get anywhere in life anyway, now is it? Oh, no. I'll live out my days as a grimy little mirror, confined to James Potter's pocket, forever separated from my one true love —

_What about Gary Corner?_

That was infatuation! Pure, simple _infatuation!_

_And so was Rob Myers, I suppose? And Matt Zimmerman? And —_

Shut up! It was all infatuation!

_Riiiight._

I hate you.

_I love you too, dear._

No you don't. You're asexual.

_In a purely asexual way._

I told you Pat was asexual. But that's not the point.

_What is?_

The point is that I shall pine away into nothing, ever forsaken by —

_Flo, face it. Who in their right mind would fall in love with a mirror?_

Narcissus would.

_What are you talking about?_

Narcissus from the story of Echo and Narcissus. He fell in love with his own reflection.

_Ah, but there's a difference. He didn't fall in love with that which caused the reflection. He fell in love with the reflection itself._

Close enough. _I _wouldn't mind.

_Remind me never to try to argue with you again._

I'd be glad to.

_Just consider this: if Sirius _did_ fall in love with his own reflection, why on earth would he look at it in James Potter's mirror?_

I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I ha —

_I'm going to sleep._

No, you're not! I need someone to rant to.

_You can rant to me all you want. I just won't listen._

I _hate_ you.

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**A/N:** Just a weird little humor fic that came into my head yesterday morning. I'd like to apologize for being so inactive lately — it's because I'm working on a major next generation fanfic with my close friend — we're co-writing it. I'm really excited about it, and think we've got some great ideas. Hopefully it won't die before getting out of the hangar. Anyway, please review and I will love you for all eternity. Thanks a lot. 


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